


Performance Review

by HedonistInk



Series: Office Hours [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Coercion, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Oral Sex, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Sex for Favors, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Assault, Sexual Coercion, Teacher-Student Relationship, sexual favors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 02:31:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8950444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedonistInk/pseuds/HedonistInk
Summary: "Anything...?" Iverson's tone quirked up curiously and Lance tensed in response. "You're willing to go above and beyond to prove you want to be a pilot?"The young cadet bit his lip, hesitating. He was probably going to wind up scrubbing bathrooms for a month or something at this rate. Swallowing his pride, Lance nodded. "Yes, Sir, anything."The tiniest of smiles cracked onto the officer's face at that response and Lance felt something in his gut twist. Something unfamiliar and uncomfortable and scary lurked behind that slight, sick smile. Iverson never smiled. Whatever had brought the look to his face couldn't have been good."...Kneel."





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to start off by apologising to Lance. But hey, don't they always say to torture your favs? This piece spawned from an idle offhand comment of "is anyone shipped with Iverson?" that somehow turned into Iverson Is A Fucking Creep. And this is literally just basically Lance having A Bad Time. There's nothing redeemable about this. It's just Lance suffering. So uh read at your own risk.  
> (Then that turned into 'but what if Pidge?' & my awesome bestie C0cunt volunteered to write a Pidge piece in this same universe, so look out for that from him sometime soon. Then that turned into some 'but what if Keith' which I'm working on. So if you like this sort of thing you might just want to sub the series.) 
> 
> ANYWAY, as always, comments & kudos are much appreciated, (especially since this is my first time solo-writing dubcon in like 6 years).
> 
> NB: This is set pre-series and pre-Kerberos. Lance is 18.

Lance knew it wasn't good when he was told to visit Iverson's office after class to "discuss his future with the Garrison". That couldn't have meant anything good. Sure, he knew he'd done sort of bad on the simulator lately but... he hadn't done  _ that _ badly, right? He wasn't... flunking out or anything. Right? Oh god. What if he was flunking out? Where would he go? But... It wasn't like he could do anything about it.

So after his last class of the day, Lance headed for Iverson's office as ordered. He knocked quickly, fidgeting outside the door as he waited for an invitation into the room.

Iverson barely gave him a glance at first, looking back to his papers and marking a few things down before he set down his pen. Shuffling through a few things, he picked up another paper. "Simulator attempts: Forty three. Successful completions: Zero. Failure rate: One hundred percent. Class average: Twenty five percent. Theory examinations current grade: C. Minimum grade to continue with the pilot program: C." 

The older man stood, rounding his desk and crossing his arms to frown down the bridge of his nose at Lance. "You're walking a fine line here, McClain. Are you sure you're  _ fit _ for the Garrison? For the pilot program?"

Each fact and number that Iverson had rattled off had rattled Lance further, the deliberately neutral expression that had started on the cadet's face slowly slipping away and cracking into a distressed pout. "Y-yes sir! I can do it!"

"Our performance lately is… subpar at best. Especially when compared to some of our more… outstanding cadets. Kogane, for example." 

Lance's posture stiffened at the mention of Keith's name. That jerk always made the simulator look  _ easy. _ He completely blew the curve. It wasn't fair. 

"You haven't exactly shown your dedication to being here, McClain..." Iverson's frown only deepened. 

"Please! Please just let me prove it. Extra work or something! I'll do anything!" Lance drew back into himself as soon as the overeager words slipped out of his mouth. He needed to tone it down.

"Anything...?" Iverson's tone quirked up curiously and Lance tensed in response. "You're willing to go above and beyond to  _ prove _ you want to be a pilot?"

The young cadet bit his lip, hesitating. He was probably going to wind up scrubbing bathrooms for a month or something at this rate. Swallowing his pride, Lance nodded. "Yes, Sir, anything."

The tiniest of smiles cracked onto the officer's face at that response and Lance felt something in his gut twist. Something unfamiliar and uncomfortable and  _ scary _ lurked behind that slight, sick smile. Iverson  _ never _ smiled. Whatever had brought the look to his face couldn't have been good.  


"Well then... Hm... Since you're so dedicated to proving yourself..." Iverson trailed off, seeming to think for a moment and visibly delighting in the way Lance squirmed. "Come here, cadet," he barked after a few long moments of contemplation, snapping his fingers and gesturing to the spot in front of him.

Lance practically tripped over his own flailing limbs as he scuttled over. Being so close to the intimidating instructor was... weird. And wrong. And... something about it felt... not quite right. It set him on-edge in an uneasy sort of way, the back of his neck prickling. "S-sir...?"

"...Kneel."

"E-excuse me? S-sir!?" There was no way Lance heard that right.

"You said you'd do anything, didn't you? Then kneel." Iverson's tone was cold, almost bored with his sheer disinterest. "...Or I can just report these grades as-is. I'm sure we can find another pilot  _ wannabe _ to assign your team to. What was it...  _ Gunderson _ and... Harett? Garett?" Pidge's name was practically a sneer while he seemed to not even  _ know _ Hunk's name.

Lance genuinely wasn't sure which upset him more. Probably Hunk. It was  _ Hunk, _ after all, his best buddy. Shaking his head, he slowly dropped to his knees. He couldn't risk getting kicked out of the program. And besides... Iverson probably just... wanted Lance to praise him or something. Bark like a dog maybe or some humiliating power trip stunt.

Even if he was practically leering down at Lance as he loomed over him.

Then Iverson was moving and the sound of a zipper sounded impossibly loud in the small office. The zipper... That was the zipper on the commander's  _ pants. _

Oh.  _ Fuck. _

Lance froze, eyes bulging in their sockets, cheeks burning with blossoming heat. What the  _ fuck!? _ Iverson couldn't possibly want him to... If he was... Oh god. But... If the other option meant getting kicked out of the Garrison... There wasn't really a  _ choice _ there. Gaze flicking down, Lance couldn't help but notice the blatant bulge in the other man's pants, made all the more obvious by the way the undone zipper parted.

"I think you know what to do now, cadet."

Stammering, Lance fidgeted on his knees, hands wringing in his lap. "Please... Sir, I... This isn't what I--"

"Your choice, cadet," Iverson cut him off. "You can leave this room right now. But you'd better start packing if you do."

Lance's jaw flapped open and shut uselessly before he swallowed hard, reaching up tentatively with hands that shook heavily. He couldn't get kicked out of the program. His hands felt too large, clunky, and the fabric too rough under his fingertips. This wasn't happening. Lance focused his gaze on Iverson's uniform shirt, studying the details of a button just above his navel. Maybe if he could just distract himself he could pretend this wasn't happening.

Yet Lance was also slightly curious what exactly he was getting into as his hand dipped into the open fabric and into the other man's underwear. His fingers met flesh a moment later, hot and clammy and soft. He found a mess of coarse, rough hair when his touch travelled a bit farther.

Oh god.

That was Commander Iverson's  _ penis _ .

"Now, McClain. Show some goddamn initiative," the older man barked down at him, a hand moving to grip at his hair.

Lance jolted at the touch and a whimpering sound that was almost a sob bubbled past his lips before he could choke it down. He didn't want to do this. He  _ really _ didn't want to do this. Sure he had jerked himself off to the thought of sucking another guy off before. Lance was entirely comfortable with his bisexuality, even if he wasn't blatant about it. But this... This wasn't at all how he fantasised that his first blowjob would go, or his first  _ anything _ sexual would go. Hell, he was barely even eighteen, he'd never even  _ kissed _ anyone, and now he was being told to suck off a man old enough to be his father who always seemed to do nothing but yell at and belittle him. But... his career, his  _ future _ was on the line. Lance tugged Iverson's dick free quickly, committing himself to do what had to be done.

Lance had seen his fair share of nice looking dicks in the covertly-traded porn that was obtained from the nearby town by the older students and passed around between the cadets. Iverson's on the other hand... It was short and thick to the point of being almost  _ stumpy _ with an awkward sideways curve to it that didn't look like it would be comfortable in the slightest. The base was tangled in a thick mess of dark, coarse curls that extended into sparse hairs the first inch or so up the shaft. The commander was desperately in need of a trim or some manscaping. Not to mention the thick scent of musk and sickly sweet sweat emanating from it. It was... actually really an  _ ugly _ dick. Repulsive. Regardless of how repulsive the man it was attached to was, Lance didn't think he'd ever seen a cock that  _ actively _ turned him off the way the dick looming in front of his face did.

At least he didn't have to worry about popping a boner over this ordeal.

Scrunching his eyes shut so he at least didn't have to  _ look _ at it, Lance wrapped one hand around the base of Iverson's dick as he let his lips part hesitantly, tongue slipping out past them. Leaning forward, he tested himself with a tentative lick and stifled a grimace. Bitter, salty, lingering on his tongue. Lance's repulsed shudder shook his body. Still, he licked at it again, and again, feeling himself on the edge of tears as he laved the crown with repeated kitten licks.

A groan sounded out from somewhere above him and Lance felt the fingers tighten in his hair. "Keep going."

Eyes scrunching tighter, tight enough to send up white spots behind his lids, Lance swirled his tongue around the head of the cock in his hand before enveloping it in his mouth. He tasted... He tasted  _ gross _ , there was no other way to put it, not really. It was just gross. Everything about this was.... Horrible.

Well... the best he could hope for was to make this quick and get it over with. Maybe with a dick that shrivelled, Iverson didn't see a lot of action and this would be over fast.

Lance could hope.

Continuing to lick and suck at the head of it, Lance tipped his head and opened his mouth to lick along the side of the shaft. The sickly sweet-and-bitter scent was only made all the worse near the base of it, sharper and more intense, overpowering Lance's senses as he fought the urge to gag. Pulling back, he let the tip of it enter his mouth again, starting to work his way down the none-too-remarkable length of it. Not that he was complaining about Iverson not being particularly  _ gifted _ in that area. The last thing he wanted was to be choking on the bastard's dick.

Lance tried taking things easy, not wanting to push himself too far too fast with the way his gag reflex was already threatening him. Then there was the matter of the  _ thickness _ of it, already making his jaw sore as he tried desperately to avoid scraping his teeth against the cock in his mouth.

Suddenly, the fingers in Lance's hair tightened as the older man's hips snapped forward, forcing the full length of Iverson's cock into Lance's mouth at once. An alarmed sound of protest worked its way out of the teen's throat, his hands fisting in the fabric of the officer's pants and eyes snapping open with concern. His throat convulsed around the intrusion, making him gag harshly as he tried to push back against Iverson's hips, to push him away. "Nnh! Nnh-nnh! Nghh!!"  

He couldn't  _ breathe _ . Oh god. Lance could feel himself starting to panic, knees burning where they squirmed against the hard floor.

Finally, Iverson pulled back, never releasing the grip he held on Lance's hair. The young cadet coughed and spluttered, thick strands of saliva oozing down his chin and onto his uniform, cheeks streaked with tears.

"What was that? You going to give up, then...?"

Hurt, betrayal, rage. Lance wasn't sure which emotion was the strongest. This man was supposed to look out for his students, for Lance, to teach him, to protect him, to prepare him for the career he was training for. Instead... Instead he was choking Lance on his dick and threatening to kick him out of the program if he didn't comply.

A sharp tug at Lance's hair drew out a yelp from the teen, making his already slack jaw drop farther open. Iverson wasted no time in shoving his thick cock back into his cadet's mouth. He drew back again, this time only part way, before thrusting forward again, picking up a harsh pace that had Lance struggling to find the time or space to breathe. "Look at that..." Iverson practically purred his words, the out-of-place saccharine sweetness of his tone making Lance's gut twist and clench in disgust. "That big mouth of yours  _ is _ good for something, after all, McClain."

That was it. Iverson didn't see him as worth  _ anything. _ Lance knew that more clearly now than he had before. He'd always thought Iverson disliked him but somehow being seen as  _ worthless _ was...  _ worse. _ As far as he was concerned, this was all that Lance was good for. Just something to be used however he wanted. 

Lance didn't bother trying to stop the disgusted, humiliated, and flat out angry tears running down his cheeks after that. This wasn't  _ right. _ Sure he'd fucked up. A lot. Repeatedly. But he didn't deserve  _ this. _ He wasn't worthless. He wasn't. Really. 

Lance kept his eyes shut, jaw slackened as much as he could make it be, breathing between thrusts to the best of his ability between hitching sobs.

Thankfully, it was obvious enough even to Lance that Iverson was getting close after a few more minutes of his using the teen's throat as his own personal fucktoy. His movements had picked up in their roughness, grip tight on the teen's hair as he fucked into his mouth with ever shrinking caution--not that he'd had much to begin with. The older man's voice came out in slight, soft grunts, low and guttural and increasingly strained.

Suddenly, the small grunts were replaced by a louder, longer groan and Lance found his face pressed tight to Iverson's groin. His nose was jammed uncomfortably against the zipper of his pants as he felt bursts of hot liquid hitting the back of his mouth and throat in waves. Lance choked, eyes screwing shut as he tried in vain to will his body to relax, flailing in vain struggle before gripping at the front of Iverson's pants again.

When the commander finally finished, he shoved Lance back unceremoniously, toppling over Lance's balance.

Lance fell back onto his elbows as he coughed and choked, turning onto his side to splutter and cough more effectively. Blue eyes glared up at the older man with a watery gaze as he wiped at his mouth with the sleeve of his uniform. He watched as Iverson, unphased, tucked himself away and did up his pants, a self-satisfied smugness in the commander's movements that had bile rising in the back of Lance's throat. He swallowed, flinching at how the action hurt his abused throat. 

"So... we're good then, right?" Lance asked, cringing at how wrecked his voice sounded, cracking and breaking. He pushed himself up again, standing with knees sore and legs trembling. His scalp ached and throbbed from the harsh grip that his hair had been held in. "I did what you wanted so... my grades are... I can stay in the program, right?" If Iverson tried to back out of their deal now... Lance might  _ actually _ throttle him. He couldn't have done all of that for… for nothing. 

"...For now. You've exceeded expectations. But I think we'll need to... review your performance again in say... two weeks?"

Lance's eyes went wide, feeling the tremors in his limbs more acutely. "Wh-what? N-no that wasn't part of the deal. You said if I...  _ did _ that..." Oh fuck. He wanted to make this a regular thing. Lance was... He was pimping himself out for his spot in the Garrison.  

"Two weeks, McClain. Now get out of my office." Iverson moved to sit at his obscenely exaggerated desk again, pointing toward the door with one hand as he went back to shuffling through his notes.

Lance didn't have to be told twice, turning and leaving the office in a rush, only praying he didn't run into anyone on the way back to his room. Maybe, if he was lucky, Hunk would still be at dinner and he could have some time to himself, maybe brush his teeth until his gums bled to get the taste out of his mouth before taking the longest, hottest shower the pipes would let him have to scrub the skin off of his body with.

**Author's Note:**

> There's gonna be one more chapter of this terrible terrible thing. Not until after xmas though as I have some other deadlines coming up first.  
> Also find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/MihaelKai/) & [Tumblr](http://mihaelkai.tumblr.com/)


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